Jacqueline Holmes and the Case Where Her Dad Nearly Got Poisoned
by Bride of Insanity
Summary: Jacqueline Holmes is not normal. She's a freak, ask anyone. But she doesn't care. Her dad is Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, and she loves him. She's prepared to follow him through hell or high water and she will. And so will their potential flatmate, John Watson. Let's see how they'll handle A Study in Pink. (I suck at summaries. The fic is better, I think)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello darlings. So I've had the urge to write up a Sherlock fic for a long time and I've finally gotten around to it. I hope you all like it.**

Jacqueline Holmes hummed as she wiped the blood off of her hands. She frowned at the slightly red stain it left behind but didn't cluck her tongue in annoyance like she normally would. The blood was her fault for once. She'd been performing a bit of a public experiment to see how many people in a group of roughly ten could keep a level head during an emergency. She'd performed the experiment several times and so far the average amount of people who could keep their cool was between three and four.

"Are my notes safe? I tried not to get blood on them this time." Jacqueline asked the homeless man beside her. She'd been using him for the past week as her escape. It was his job to say he was taking her to the hospital around the corner and then get them both out of sight so they could escape before anyone could find out she was faking.

"Just a smidge of blood this time." The man said, handing her a paper towel. They were in a public bathroom not far from where she'd performed the experiment. Jacqueline took it and wiped her hands off quickly so she could take the notes in the man's hands.

Jacqueline placed the papers against the mirror above the sink and used the pencil she found in her jacket to scribble down her findings. Once she was done she stuffed her notes in her pocket and pulled out a wad of twenty dollar bills. "Thank you for your help, I won't be needing it again for a while." She said as she handed over the cash. The man nodded and, without another word, left the bathroom. Jacqueline waited till the door was closed again before pulling out her cell. She dialed up her dad's number and pressed send.

Sherlock had just finished sending his last text message to Lestrade when his phone rang. He glanced briefly at the caller I.D before answering it. "How did it go?" Sherlock asked as he searched for the telly remote. He always opted to skip the normal way of greeting when it was his daughter calling. He knew she didn't like to delay the conversation with pleasantries.

_"Oh it went great. I'm actually finished with it now, just need to make up a brief chart and store the information about the average crowd in that area in my Mind Palace."_ Jacqueline said cheerfully. Sherlock could practically hear the smile on her face. _"How did Lestrade's press conference go?" _She asked curiously.

Sherlock smirked as he pushed aside a few papers. "Rather well actually though there were a few interruptions. He should learn not to say ignorant statements on live television." He said, a bit smugly. Jacqueline laughed on the other end. He heard her open a door on her end, a door that lead her into what was probably a coffee shop if the noise volume in the background was anything to go on. "Where's the remote?" Sherlock asked his daughter.

Once again, Sherlock thought he could hear her smile. _"Check beside Billy. You like to leave things you'll need within the hour by him." _Jacqueline answered, always one to know exactly where everything was in whatever place they were living. She kept a mental image, almost like a holograph, tucked inside an empty picture frame inside her Mind Palace. She could access it with the most ease out of everything she kept in her head.

"I don't do that." Sherlock said with a frown though he knew she was right. He just wanted to hear her explain. It was a pastime of Sherlock's, getting his daughter to deduce for him. It had been a game when she was a child and was still somewhat of a game now though she took it much more seriously at her age. Sherlock knew most fifteen year old girls were concerned with boys and their social lives but not his Jacqueline. She was much more interested in her intelligence and her future career as the world's second consulting detective.

_"Yes you do." _Jacqueline said, chuckling slightly. She paused for a moment and Sherlock could hear her ordering a pastry from the shop keeper. _"Second only to me, Billy is the one you like to chat with the most. You find his ability to listen amiable which is why you put small important matters, like your nicotine patches and your phone, by him. Of course, once again I must remind you that Billy is a skull with no functioning hearing system and if you need to talk things out I have perfectly willing ears." _A small curse punctuated her small speech. Sherlock heard the rustlings of paper and the slight cling of change. She must have dropped her money or pulled her notes out of her pocket as she was getting out the cash. _"Bugger. I hope the cashier didn't notice the blood." _Jacqueline said after a minute or two.

"Couldn't keep it off your notes?" Sherlock asked as he walked towards the door. He had long since found the remote (by Billy like Jacqueline had said) and had turned off the telly. Now he was making his way out the door, swiping up his riding crop as he did.

Jacqueline huffed in what was most definitely annoyance. _"No, one of the more panicky types jostled me. I acted appropriately hurt when he did but I might have let a bit of my anger show. There's a few letters blotched now and you know how I hate that." _She said, rambling slightly in her desire to complain.

Sherlock had to stop himself from chuckling but was very glad that his daughter was not around so that he could smirk. "Yes, I know. I'll be sure to bring one of your notebooks so you can rewrite it." He said as he pushed his feet into his shoes without looking. He grabbed his coat and scarf as he moved out the door. He instantly turned to the stairs leading up to the two other bedrooms and started up them.

_"Grab the checkered one if you can find it. I think I unpacked it already but I'm not sure. It's got all of my previous notes on this experiment in it." _Jacqueline told him, a slight pleading tone to her voice. As if she was begging him to grab the checkered one. Sherlock rolled his eyes, he'd kept track of which of her notebooks were for what and had already planned on grabbing that one.

Sherlock opened the door to his daughter's room and frowned. "You've hardly unpacked." He said, eyeing the many boxes in the room. Most of them were hidden though by the grand piano that sat dead center in the middle of the room. It was the smallest grand piano they could find but it still took up a lot of the generously large room. "And there are boxes on your piano." Sherlock commented disapprovingly as he made his way to the bed in the farthest corner from the door.

_"Only for the moment." _Jacqueline said. Sherlock's cheek twitched ever so slightly, something that had been happening ever since he had learned to sense his daughter rolling her eyes at him.

"Jacqueline Holmes if you roll your eyes like a snobbish teenage girl again I will take away your experimenting rights for a week." Sherlock said. He'd reached her bed now and was looking down at her large collection of notebooks. Her checkered one was, not surprisingly, on her pillow.

Jacqueline huffed on the other end but Sherlock could sense her smiling again. _"I hate when you do that." _She said. There was the sound of chewing, she'd finally gotten her pastry.

Sherlock smirked a little as he made his way back downstairs, the notebook tucked beneath his arm along with his things. "No you don't." He said knowingly.

Quiet laughter. _"No I don't." _Jacqueline said agreeingly. Sherlock smiled. _"So where are we meeting? You said you'll bring my notebook which obviously means I'm to meet you somewhere." _The younger Holmes asked with interest.

"Outside Saint Bart's. Walk there if possible." Sherlock told her. He didn't give her a reason as to why she should walk, Jacqueline already knew. They were a bit tight on cash at the moment even with Missus Hudson cutting them a deal and they couldn't afford to unnecessarily spend money. More than likely the only reason Jacqueline had bought a pastry was because she hadn't eaten in the past three or four days.

_"Be there in fifteen minutes. Don't be late." _Jacqueline said cheerfully. With that she hung up, leaving her dad smirking as he walked down the stairs. She had given him a challenge. Get to Bart's in fifteen minutes during the morning rush. Sherlock smiled, he'd be sure to tease her for giving him so much time to work with.


	2. Chapter 2

"Impressive." Jacqueline said as her dad got out of a cab. She had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat and she was grinning at him. A real grin, not one she reserved for when she was tricking someone. "You instructed him on which roads to take the whole way, didn't you?" She asked knowingly.

Sherlock paid the cabbie quickly before walking over to his daughter, smiling at her. "Of course." He said as he walked past her, passing her her notebook as he did. Jacqueline grinned as she followed him inside.

They walked quickly down to the morgue, chatting about the cases Sherlock was working on. He only had two or four very simple ones at the moment. None of them were very interesting, he'd taken at least two of them simply for cash, and therefore Jacqueline wasn't helping with them. He told her the interesting bits about the other two but since he didn't have all the evidence he needed he couldn't tell her enough to keep her truly interested. Jacqueline didn't mind though. She liked to hear about her dad's cases even if they were boring.

By the time they walked into the morgue Jacqueline's serious expression was marred by the excited light that seemed to be coming off of her. Her dad was testing an alibi involving bruises and she couldn't wait to see how it panned out.

"Oh hello." Molly said as they entered, pleasantly surprised by their arrival.

Jacqueline did a quick once over of Molly. She was wearing simple, nice yet comfortable, clothing with her normal sensible footwear. No makeup on her face…Nothing important after work then or else she'd be more dressed up. Not expecting anyone of import either. Jacqueline eyed Molly's legs. Animal shedding around the cuffs and a bit on the calves. She hadn't vacuumed her place within a couple of days then, her dog didn't shed much and it took a little while for the hair to accumulate. Some of the hair was orange and long, she'd gotten a new pet. A cat more than likely, cats liked to rub against peoples' legs. Molly had put on about a pound over the week as well, good week then. Slightly dilated pupils, she'd had a small coffee that morning. Jacqueline moved her eyes away from Molly, bored quickly. She knew Molly well enough to find deducing about her rather boring.

"I need a body." Sherlock said, skipping the pleasantries in favor of getting to business quickly. He glanced back at Jacqueline, appraising her for just a second. He needed to get her new shoes. Those boots she so loved to wear were starting to fall apart. It would be difficult to talk her into giving them up. "And Jacqueline needs a bag of fingers." He told Molly, turning back to look at her.

Molly was not taken aback by Sherlock's brashness, something that both of the Holmeses had to take note of and praise slightly. She nodded and smiled. "I've got one on the table now, donated himself to science. I've got Jacqueline's fingers on ice for now." She told them in what was probably a sweet way. The sweetness was lost on her visitors though.

Sherlock walked briskly over to the body bag on the examination table, Jacqueline following just a few steps behind. Molly followed them a few seconds later looking a tad dejected but not overly. She was, quite unfortunately for them, a rather optimistic person. Jacqueline had to admit she admired the woman's determination to remain happy as she pursued after the infamous Sherlock Holmes. Not many women could do that. Hell, Jacqueline could barely keep her temper in check sometimes with her dad and she was the one who understood him the best. To barely understand him and to be constantly rejected by him and still remain happy was a very impressive feat indeed.

Jacqueline stood just behind her dad as he unzipped the body bag, wanting to get a good look at the corpse within. Molly stayed a respectable distance from them, knowing how much it annoyed them to have someone other than each other leaning over their shoulders. Jacqueline gave the woman a slightly approving look before focusing on the corpse. He was older, elderly in fact, and Jacqueline felt a small gnaw in her head that said he had once been familiar but she had deleted him. Sherlock sniffed. "How fresh?" He asked.

"Just in." Molly answered immediately. She started walking around the exam table towards them but neither Holmes paid attention to that, too focused on the body to care. "Sixty seven, natural causes." Jacqueline nodded slightly; this was a perfect corpse for her dad to practice his alibi on. "He used to work here. I knew him, he was nice." Molly said as she stopped not far from them. Jacqueline did a mental facepalm, she'd seen the man around the morgue! Of course!

Sherlock zipped the body bad back up. "Fine." He said as he straightened up. He exchanged a small look with Jacqueline as he turned to Molly. They silently agreed with each other that the body was perfect for this experiment. "We'll start with the riding crop." Sherlock told the pathologist, giving her a fake smile once he was done.

The second the body was out of the bag and lying on the table, Molly retreated to the observation room. Jacqueline stayed with her dad in the morgue, keeping a safe distance away from him and the body. She watched with interest as he repeatedly struck the corpse with his riding crop and observed the places he hit for any sign of bruising. By the time he was finished she couldn't see any blemishes and she started to doubt the alibi her dad was trying to prove.

Molly came wandering back into the morgue right around the time Sherlock finished beating the corpse. "So, bad day was it?" She asked jokingly, smiling at the consulting detective. Jacqueline rolled her eyes at the joke.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes, a man's alibi depends on it. Text me." Sherlock said, completely ignoring the joke as he pulled out a notebook from his jacket and started writing. He glanced over at Jacqueline who was leaning over the upper half of the body, peering at the struck flesh. "Jacqueline you may go to the lab now if you like." He told her, turning his eyes back to his notebook.

Jacqueline frowned, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be allowed to stay in the morgue and examine the bruises herself, but nodded. She started walking towards the doors but paused for a second when she saw the slightly nervous look on Molly's face and her now lipstick covered lips. A smirk appeared on her face and she quickly left the room. She stopped just outside the doors and carefully opened one up again just slightly so she could listen in.

"Listen." Molly said suddenly just a few seconds after Jacqueline left the room. The younger Holmes chuckled softly from behind the door. "I was wondering if maybe later, when you're finished-."

"Are you wearing lipstick?" Sherlock asked, cutting Molly off. "You weren't wearing lipstick before." Jacqueline placed a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her snickering.

Molly paused for a moment, a little flustered from being interrupted. "I uh…I refreshed it a bit." She lied. Jacqueline rolled her eyes again at how absolutely awful the woman's lying skills were. She'd been a better liar at the age of three.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Sherlock asked before turning back to his notebook.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." Molly said. She actually didn't sound nervous as she said that. It was surprising.

Jacqueline held her breath so she could hear her dad's reply perfectly. She peered through the crack in the door and saw him putting up his notebook. "Black, two sugars please. Grab one for Jacqueline as well. We'll be upstairs." Sherlock replied, completely oblivious to the fact that Molly had just asked him out. Jacqueline quietly closed the door before bursting into laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to keep Molly from hearing her. Her dad came walking out two seconds later. He stopped when he saw her leaning against the wall, her eyes shut and her hand over her mouth. "What happened?" Sherlock asked curiously.

Jacqueline shook her head and pushed herself off the wall. "She was asking you out, dad." She explained, a little bit breathless from her laughter.

Sherlock quickly reran the past few minutes through his head. He looked mildly surprised that he had misinterpreted the situation but he seemed proud of Jacqueline for recognizing it. "Well, I wouldn't have said yes anyway." He said uncaringly before starting to walk upstairs.

Jacqueline followed after her dad, grinning. "Of course not. You're too busy to date." She said cheerfully. Sherlock smirked at that.

It didn't take them long to reach the lab. Neither Holmes spoke the whole way and once inside Sherlock went straight to work. He pulled out a handful of small bags from inside his coat that contained samples of gravel from the crime scene of one of his cases. Jacqueline remembered him telling her about it. The wife was convinced her husband's death, he drowned in their garden pond while drunk, was not an accident. She thought the younger brother had killed her husband though the brother wasn't even in the country at the time the death took place.

"Would you like to help me examine the samples or do you have another experiment you're working on?" Sherlock asked, giving his daughter a sideways look as he started to gather the necessary equipment.

Jacqueline placed her notebook on the table. "I can copy down my notes later." She said, grinning at the prospect of helping her dad.

Sherlock smiled slightly and started laying out bags of gravel in a specific order next to two microscopes. "You gave me an awful amount of time to get here." He said as he opened up the first bag. Jacqueline chuckled as she made her way around the table to him. She picked the third bag and opened it. "I got here in ten minutes." Sherlock said a bit smugly as he prepared a slide.

"You could have gotten here in eight." Jacqueline pointed out with a smile as she grabbed a pinch of gravel from her bag and placed it on a slide.

"I could have but it took me a moment to get a cab." Sherlock admitted, peering into a microscope.

Jacqueline smiled at her dad before looking into her own microscope. She adjusted the lighting slightly and frowned when she noticed something. "Green paint. Did you notice this earlier?" She asked without taking her eyes away from the gravel. She picked up a pencil lying nearby and gently shifted it around, getting a better view of the paint.

"I noticed a slight difference in some of the gravel while I was there." Sherlock told her. He gently pushed her aside and looked into the microscope. "Which sample is this?" He asked after a minute.

"The open bag on the right." Jacqueline answered, watching her dad.

Sherlock looked over at the bag, read the label he had put on it, and started searching for another specific bag. "Did I tell you about this man's personality Jacqueline?" He asked as he prepared a new slide with a sample from a different bag. He saw Jacqueline shake her head out of the corner of her eye. "He was boringly mundane, rarely got drunk, and was horribly superstitious. He throws salt over his shoulder when he spills it and avoids black cats. Your sample had green paint in it and this sample," he gestured slightly to the one he was now examining, "also has green paint. This sample was taken about a meter from yours." He told her.

"A ladder then." Jacqueline said, her eyes focused on the microscope as she thought. "He would have walked around it, being too superstitious to do otherwise, and slipped on the loose gravel which you mentioned yesterday. He would have been too drunk to catch himself before falling into the pond and drowning." She practically spoke to herself as she worked it out.

"Exactly. Now, the alcohol in the man's system came from a bottle of scotch the brother sent and I got a glimpse of their shed which did not contain a green ladder. What can we infer?" Sherlock asked. He was looking at Jacqueline now, watching her and waiting for her to figure it out. She hadn't known all the details so he wasn't surprised by the fact that she hadn't already gotten to it.

Jacqueline barely had to think once she had all the information. She smiled brilliantly at her dad. "If the brother owns a green ladder, it was definitely him." She stated firmly, completely sure of her answer.

Sherlock smiled at his daughter. "Excellent." Jacqueline grinned at the praise and started carefully sealing the bags that had given them the data. She placed them in her pocket for later as her dad pulled out his phone and started texting. Sherlock pressed Send and frowned when his phone informed him he had no signal. "No signal." He mumbled disapprovingly.

Jacqueline pulled out her phone and checked it. "Same. You'll have to inform your client later." She said, shrugging slightly. Sherlock frowned but nodded.

Sherlock made a comment about having to do something for another case and started to work. Jacqueline retrieved her notebook and placed herself at the very end of the table, just out of the way of her dad's work but close enough to observe it. She was just starting to copy out her notes when she heard a knock on the lab door. Two people came in and Jacqueline glanced up at them. Mike Stamford and some man she didn't know walking with a cane. She went back to her work, just barely taking in their short conversation about how the lab was different from cane man's day.

"Mike, may I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine or Jacqueline's." Sherlock said, not caring that he was interrupting a conversation.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked. He sounded like he didn't want to give up his phone, something that annoyed Jacqueline. It wasn't like her dad was going to break the damn thing.

"I prefer to text." Sherlock answered without looking away from the computer he was now sitting in front of.

Jacqueline smoothed down one of the papers her notes were on, trying to appear as if she wasn't paying any attention to the conversation. She found Mike liked to talk to her when he thought she was paying attention and she didn't like it. She couldn't learn anything if he was bothering her with stupid questions about school. "Sorry, it's in my coat." Mike said, pointing his thumb to the door. He walked over to the table as he spoke and started fiddling with the things there.

"Oh, here." The man with the cane said. He pulled out his phone as he spoke so he didn't see the way both Jacqueline's and Sherlock's eyes snapped up to look at him. "Use mine." The man told Sherlock. He glanced over and seemed confused to find Jacqueline's eyes focused completely on him. He looked away quickly though, focusing back on Sherlock. Jacqueline eyed his wrist where a clear tan line was then did a quick examination of the rest of him. She added the conversation he'd been having as he entered the room with the data she gathered from his apperance. She came to a simple conclusion; he was an army doctor with a psychosomatic limp.

"Oh. Thank you." Sherlock said, glancing once at Mike. His eyes silently asked for an introduction.

Mike was actually smart enough to understand Sherlock's glance. "He's an old friend of mine, John Watson." He explained, giving a crummy introduction but an introduction nonetheless.

Jacqueline watched her dad as he walked over to John Watson and took his phone. She eyed the phone as her dad took it with a bit of jealousy, wanting more than anything to have it in her own hand so she could get a look at it. You could tell quite a lot about a man by his phone. Sherlock started texting. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked unceremoniously. Jacqueline and Mike both smiled at the same time though for different reasons. Mike was amused, Jacqueline proud.

John looked at Mike in surprise and confusion. When Mike didn't give him an answer he looked back at Sherlock. "Sorry?" He asked, as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked before John could get the full word out of his mouth. He looked at John as he spoke but quickly turned back to the phone when all John did was stare at him, his mouth slightly open like a fish.

John managed to answer just as Molly came into the room. "Afghanistan. Sorry how did you-?"

"Ah Molly! Coffee, thank you." Sherlock said, cutting John off. He handed John his phone without looking, too focused on the coffee coming to him.

Jacqueline grinned in delight and jumped up from her seat. She raced around the table and past mike, reaching Molly before she had even gotten to John. She snatched the cup out of Molly's hand. "Thank you." She said cheerfully. Molly gave her a small smile with her now regularly pink lips that the girl almost didn't catch as she turned away. She took a drink of her coffee as she headed back to her chair and made a face when she tasted it. Whatever brand of coffee Molly had made was absolutely awful. Jacqueline made a note never to ask Molly to make coffee again.

Sherlock took his cup the second Molly reached him. "What happened to the lipstick?" He asked, noticing immediately that it was gone.

"It wasn't working for me." Molly answered immediately, as if she had expected the genius to ask her that question.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement." Sherlock said, turning away. "Your mouth's too small now." He commented, walking back to the computer and his work. He took a drink as he walked. Jacqueline had to turn away to hide her smile at the disgusted look he made. "How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked as Molly left the room.

John looked to the retreating Molly then to Mike, obviously thinking the question was directed towards one of them. Jacqueline noticed Mike examining a tube of some substance or other and frowned. That man should never be allowed to play with chemicals even if he did teach at Bart's. "I'm sorry, what?" John asked, finally realizing the question was directed at him.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Jacqueline likes to play the piano at all hours of the day. Sometimes neither of us will speak for days on end. Would that bother you?" Sherlock looked over at John. "Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He said before giving the army doctor a fake smile.

"Oh you told him about me?" John asked Mike, looking confused.

Mike shook his head. "Not a word." He told his old friend mysteriously. Jacqueline snickered quietly from where she sat.

"I did." Sherlock said, gathering up his things. Jacqueline noticed and immediately stuffed her notes in her notebook to finish copying later. They were leaving and there wasn't time to delay. "I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for." Sherlock said as he pulled on his coat. Jacqueline, who was still wearing her coat, simply stuffed her pencil inside one of the pockets and started putting on her scarf. "Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult of a leap." Sherlock said as he tied his scarf around his neck and turned off the computer he'd been working on.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked, sounding more defensive than curious.

Sherlock ignored the question as he grabbed his phone. "I've got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." He said, walking towards the doctor and the door. He stopped just a few feet from the doctor and finally focused his attention on him. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary. Jacqueline." Sherlock called for her once he was finished speaking and she walked towards him immediately, picking up her notebook on the way. He waited for her, holding the door open. She had just reached it too when John found his voice.

"Is that it?" The doctor sounded angry.

Jacqueline let out a quite sigh and took a step back into the room. Sherlock followed her back inside, asking "is that what?" He let the door swing shut behind him as he walked up to the army doctor.

"We've only just met and we're gonna go look at a flat?" John asked. Jacqueline decided he was more irritated and annoyed than angry and wondered if that was any better.

Sherlock and Jacqueline both looked at him in confusion, not entirely sure what he was so bothered about. "Problem?" Sherlock asked.

John looked towards Mike, smiling in a way that wasn't amused. Mike just smiled at him like he had expected something like this to happen. John turned back to Sherlock. "We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name." He said, listing off every problem he had with the situation. Well, perhaps not every problem. Jacqueline figured he was just being polite and not pointing out how rude her dad seemed.

Sherlock stared at John for a moment, deciding how to answer. Jacqueline smiled when she realized exactly what type of answer he was going to give. "I know you're an army doctor and I know you've been sent home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid." John looked down at his cane and shuffled awkwardly, as if he was embarrassed. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock asked, giving John a very small smile. Sherlock walked towards the door and opened it up again for Jacqueline. She smiled at him as she passed and watched as he leaned back into the room. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street." He winked at John before walking out of the room.

Jacqueline waited till they were halfway to the morgue before speaking. "You said you've got your eye on a place. He's going to be very confused when he shows up and finds the place full of stuff." She commented.

"Don't get your hopes up Jacqueline. The man might not come." Sherlock told her.

"He's living on an army pension and in desperate need of a flatmate. I'm pretty sure he'll come." Jacqueline said logically.

Sherlock glanced over at his daughter and smiled slightly. He suddenly remembered what tomorrow was and his mood plummeted. "I have a few other cases I have to work on today. Do you want to come with me?" He asked, knowing tomorrow wasn't going to be a good day for her and wanting to cheer her up.

Jacqueline's eyes immediately lit up at the idea but dimmed when she remembered what her plans were for the next day. "To tell you the truth, I just want to spend the rest of the day at the flat. I won't have a chance to unpack tomorrow and I don't know what'll happen the day afterwards so I want to get it all done tonight." She told him. She didn't look him in the eye as she spoke, afraid she'd upset him.

Sherlock placed his hand on Jacqueline's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly before letting his hand fall back to his side. "Of course, I understand." He told her though he knew she was lying. She just wanted to relax before having to spend a whole day with her stuffy uncle. He frowned, knowing it was his fault she had to go in the first place.

**The case I had Jacqueline and Sherlock working on, the green ladder one, was in fact an actual case as I'm sure you all know. The details about it can be found on Sherlock's blog. : / / w w w . . c o . u k /**


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stared around at the fully unpacked room, taking it all in so he knew in the future if anything in his daughter's room became disturbed. Her bookshelf was completely full, its contents arranged by the letters in the authors' last names except for the bottom shelf which held her notebooks. Her clothes were packed away in the relatively large dresser by the door and hanging in the closet beside that dresser. One whole wall, the wall her bed was pressed against, was covered with newspaper clippings from all the cases she'd helped her dad solve. Sherlock smiled slightly at them before moving his eyes onto Jacqueline sleeping peacefully on her bed.

Sherlock didn't like to think about how Jacqueline came into the world or how the first ten years of her life were hell. He couldn't help it though when the first and forth Saturday of every month came along. Those were the days Mycroft got her from seven in the morning to seven in the evening. The days Sherlock was viciously reminded of how much he had screwed up.

Jacqueline was conceived when Sherlock was only sixteen. He'd been bored and had decided to see if sex would improve the speed at which his brain functioned. He'd found a willing partner, a smart girl in his Chemistry class who wanted a distraction from schoolwork for a few hours. They had sex a couple of times for Sherlock's experiment before the girl told him that she'd forgotten to take her pill one day and was pregnant. Of course that caused their individual parents to blow a fuse.

The girl's parents were against abortion but they didn't want to raise the "mistake" so, when Jacqueline was born, they dragged Sherlock to court. The girl gave up all legal responsibility and Sherlock's parents were made Jacqueline's guardians until Sherlock turned eighteen. Sherlock didn't want his parents to raise his child but he had no say in the matter. They shipped him back to school and for two years he only saw Jacqueline a few times during holidays. The second he turned eighteen he got her away from his parents by taking away their guardian statuses and moving them both out of the house.

For five years Sherlock raised Jacqueline, teaching her everything he knew and molding her mind into one just as brilliant as his while taking her to crime scenes on a regular basis. They were both doing great until Sherlock decided to see if drugs could help him focus. It took a grand total of two months for Jacqueline to be taken away from him and put into Mycroft's care, something the older Holmes had made possible by making a few phone calls to ensure the girl didn't end up with their parents as guardians again. Sherlock had literally begged Mycroft to give his daughter back and Mycroft had agreed but only if Sherlock agreed to a few condition. The whole thing was labeled the Agreement in Sherlock's mind.

The first condition was that Sherlock had to prove he was a capable caregiver. It took two years, one year in rehab and one trying to convince Child Services he was better, to get her back. That proved to be the easiest part of the Agreement. The second condition was that Sherlock could never touch drugs again or else Mycroft was allowed to take Jacqueline away permanently without any chance of Sherlock getting her back. That was a daily struggle for Sherlock. Once an addict always an addict and Sherlock was no exception. He kept it up though, avoiding all the places he knew drug dealers lurked so he wouldn't be tempted. Mycroft's third condition angered Sherlock to no end. He was not allowed to make any decision about her schooling without Mycroft's permission. Which meant he had to call his brother every time he wanted to get Jacqueline out of school early and ask for permission. Sherlock was almost dead certain Mycroft had added that rule just to annoy him. The fourth condition was actually one Sherlock agreed with. Mycroft was to be the legal guardian of Sherlock which allowed him to attend school functions, pull her out of school, sign papers at hospitals, and raise Jacqueline if Sherlock were to die before she was eighteen.

The fifth and final condition didn't bother Jacqueline as much as it bothered Sherlock. Twice a month, every two weeks, for almost a whole day Jacqueline had to spend time with her uncle and report on how she was doing. If Mycroft thought she wasn't doing well he was allowed to take her away from Sherlock. Not forever but just until Sherlock promised to change. Sherlock didn't like the condition though. It meant for a whole day his daughter was forced to be with an insufferable man who looked down his nose at nearly everything they enjoyed. It also meant he and Jacqueline were reminded of how terrible of a father he was.

Jacqueline stirred in her sleep, pulling her covers tightly around her. Sherlock noted that it was a little chilly in her room and mentally told himself to get Missus Hudson to turn the heat up slightly. He watched his daughter for a moment, silently apologizing for ruining at least five years of her life. Finally he turned and started walking back downstairs, vowing to get Mycroft to take her to a museum or someplace she'd enjoy for once when he saw him tomorrow.

**Well I've given you three chapters to start off with. I do hope you liked them. The next chapter is going to have a lot of uncle Mycroft, just so you know. After that though I'll be getting back to the events we all love from the Study in Pink. Ciao.**


	4. Chapter 4

Jacqueline woke up at six but didn't say a word the whole time she was getting ready for her day with her uncle. She showered, brushed and blow dried her hair, and changed into an outfit at least moderately fit for the niece of a very important government official. A moderately nice blouse, a pair of black business pants, and black heels that added two inches to her height. The two inches were important to her especially. She was still growing, surprisingly, but at the moment she was stuck at five foot eight which left her two inches shorter than her dad and three inches shorter than her uncle. She didn't like being so considerably shorter than her uncle when she was with him so the two inches made her feet better.

Sherlock didn't dare comment on Jacqueline's outfit or how she was wearing her hair down instead of in a ponytail like she normally would. He also didn't comment on how when she looked like that she seemed more like Mycroft's daughter instead of his which was completely ridiculous. Anyone could tell Jacqueline was Sherlock's daughter. She had barely gotten any of her mother's looks, only receiving rather lovely lips that would have been called kissable on any other girl and straight hair instead of curly. The rest of her was oh so clearly Sherlock. Her cheekbones, her slightly paler than normal skin, her dark colored hair, and her bright piercing eyes along with their color all came from Sherlock. Still, the way she held herself when she was about to visit with Mycroft reminded Sherlock so much of his brother that it almost sickened him.

At exactly six fifty seven Sherlock and Jacqueline exited the flat, both wearing coats and scarves but heading for different locations. Sherlock stopped Jacqueline just before she could reach the door handle and open them up to the outside world. "Remember to call if something happens and I won't be too busy today so if you get bored feel free to text me." Sherlock told her, trying not to sound to earnest. He knew she worried when he appeared bothered by something and he didn't want her to be stressing about him while she was with Mycroft.

Jacqueline smiled slightly at him. "Yes, well, you'll be getting a lot to texts then. I have a feeling dear uncle Mycroft is going to drag me to another lunch with his high society 'friends.'" She tried to sound like she was joking but it didn't come out that way. She hated her uncle's friends and the idea of spending a whole lunch with them made her want to flee.

Sherlock went to reply but the sound of a car door closing loudly just outside the door made him stop. Jacqueline sighed and opened the door, revealing Mycroft standing just outside waiting for them by a black car. Sherlock glared at him but Jacqueline smiled slightly. She had a much better relationship with her uncle than her dad did. He had done a fairly good job raising her for two years and had been a rather good teacher when it came to sharpening her deductive abilities. The only thing she really disliked about him was the fact that he angered her dad constantly and had forced her to live like she was his daughter. He'd dragged her to parties, meals, meetings, and all other types of social gatherings she had no interest. Lucky for her though even Mycroft had decided not to let her grandparents see her except maybe once on a holiday, understanding that she found spending time with them horribly dull.

"Uncle Mycroft, good to see you." Jacqueline said, her tone mostly emotionless except for a bit of forced brightness.

"Good to see you too Jacqueline. I hope your studies are going well." Mycroft said conversationally. He always tried to be extremely civil with Jacqueline, something she appreciated since she really didn't want the criticism he gave her dad, but not for the reasons he gave her or anyone else. Jacqueline's anger was legendary and, if sparked, could result in many things being broken. Mycroft knew that if they let her anger run wild she would more than likely murder someone.

Jacqueline couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "You know they are. You call the school once a week and have a chat with my principal." She gave her uncle a sharp annoyed look, saying she didn't at all appreciate him calling her school. Mycroft didn't reply, trying to think up something that wouldn't anger her. Jacqueline stared at him for a moment before letting out a loud weary sigh. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?" She said gloomily. She placed her hand on her dad's arm, her version of telling him bye in these situations, before walking across the sidewalk to her uncle. Mycroft opened the door of the car for her and she climbed in. Mycroft shut the door the second she was situated and started walking around to his side of the car.

Sherlock stepped forward and grabbed his brother's arm. "Don't bore her with the life of the upper class today, Mycroft. There are plenty of museums she would much rather go to that I'm sure you'd approve of." He said firmly, trying to convince his brother through tone alone to take Jacqueline to do something she'd enjoy.

Mycroft yanked his arm out of his brother's grip and smoothed out the meticulously pressed sleeve. "I don't need your input brother." He said, sounding more than a tad bit annoyed. "I am more than capable of taking care of her. I didn't think I needed to remind you of that." That was a horribly cruel jab and the elder Holmes knew it. He opened his mouth to give his version of an apology but Sherlock angrily waved him off.

"Save it. I don't have time to listen to your poor attempts at being civil." Sherlock said, glaring slightly.

"Who said I was going to apologize?" Mycroft asked. He was frowning at his brother with distaste. Sometimes Mycroft regretted teaching Sherlock what he had; he hated being read like he read others. Sherlock knew that and did it just to annoy him.

"I did." Sherlock responded. Mycroft seemed to have enough of him then. The elder Holmes turned away and started walking to his side of the car again. Sherlock had to stop him again. "I'll be needing her back before seven." He told his older brother, his hand once more wrapped tightly around his brother's arm.

Mycroft's frown deepened. "Sherlock you agreed-."

"Oh shut up. I know what I agreed to." Sherlock snapped angrily. His eyes drifted to the back windshield of the car. He couldn't see the interior but he knew Jacqueline was sitting inside watching them, her eyes calculating their body language. Sherlock looked back at his brother to find him glaring. "We have a potential flatmate coming by at seven. I would prefer Jacqueline be there to help judge the man's character and to ensure he has no problems with sharing a flat with a fifteen year old girl." Sherlock stated.

Mycroft's glare slipped considerably as he pondered whether or not to give his niece up early. It would be a good idea for her to be there and since he cared about her safety his answer was, of course, yes. He'd have to look into this flatmate. Jacqueline would give up his name if he asked. It wouldn't take long for his people to gather the necessary information. "Alright Sherlock, you can have her. I expect a call before you show up." Mycroft said. With that he pulled out of his brother's grip and got into the car.

Jacqueline was staring at Mycroft when he got into the car. She waited till they were driving away from her dad and their flat before speaking. "You two are absolutely childish." She stated firmly. Mycroft watched her carefully, noting how completely disapproving she seemed. He also noted how she seemed to be more reserved than usual. He knew for a fact her boredom had increased drastically during the week so, obviously, she thought this visit would make her boredom worse.

"Yes, I know." Mycroft told her, not sounding overly rueful. He pulled out his phone and texted his assistant. _"See if the Science Museum in London is open. Clear my schedule as much as possible." _He pressed Send before turning his attention back on Jacqueline. "Your father says you're getting a flatmate." He kept his tone casual but Jacqueline knew him well enough to know when he really wanted information.

"Probably. He didn't seem overly inclined to accept but he doesn't have many options so there's a strong possibility he'll be moving in." Jacqueline explained, her eyes drifting to the front windshield and the driver. He was one of Mycroft's men, completely trusted to get them where they needed to go. Jacqueline noticed that the driver didn't seem to be actually taking them anywhere. She frowned slightly, did uncle Mycroft have nothing planned or did his plans suddenly get changed? "His name is John Watson. He was a military doctor sent home from Afghanistan due to injury. He is living on an army pension alone and has a psychosomatic limp along with a therapist." Jacqueline rattled off as many basic facts as she could, just enough facts to provide her uncle with the necessary information to do a background search. "When you kidnap him do try and be polite." She added as an afterthought.

Mycroft gave her an almost patronizing smile that made her glare. "I will not be kidnapping Doctor Watson." He told her as he typed out another text message to one of his people. He sent her all of what his niece had told him and ordered her to do a search on the man.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whatever you say, uncle. Try to be polite while _chatting_," she scrunched her nose up in distaste at the completely incorrect word, "with him."

"Much better." Mycroft mumbled as he stared at his phone. The Science Museum was open. Good. His lunch with Harry and his daughter couldn't be canceled. Not good. Mycroft tried to remember what the girl was like but drew up mostly a blank, having deleted a good chunk of information on her. He knew she was roughly Jacqueline's age and used to the good life, her dad was an equerry after all, but he couldn't remember if she was the type of girl Jacqueline would disapprove of. More than likely she was. "Take us to the Science Museum." Mycroft called up to their driver.

Jacqueline's eyes widened in shock. "You're taking me to the museum? Why?" She asked in disbelief. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards as she tried not to smile.

"You look bored." Mycroft said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused completely on his phone so she wouldn't see the slightly grudging look in his eye. He hated it when Sherlock was right.

Jacqueline was surprisingly subdued while at the museum. She didn't go running off, didn't linger in very crowded areas, and didn't get into any fights by pointing out the idiocy of others. She didn't spend too much time at the Launchpad either though she loved to do the simple activities there. Mycroft was particularly surprised when she lingered in the Energy Hall which he had found interesting. Jacqueline didn't say a word about her actions and she would have said he was imagining things if Mycroft pointed it out. Of course he was right. She was being kind to him for taking her someplace actually fun for once by acting against her usual impulses.

Mycroft decided as they ended their trip to the museum not to openly thank Sherlock for his suggestion. Yes it had earned him points with his niece but the gratitude would give his younger brother a swelled head that the egotistical consulting detective definitely didn't need. Besides, he knew as they exited the building that he'd be losing his niece's affection the second she saw who they were supposed to have lunch with. She'd met Harry a couple of times and enjoyed trying to guess what sort of business his employer was up to but she'd never met his daughter, a girl who Mycroft was sure she wouldn't get along with.

"You're not losing anything." Jacqueline said when they were about halfway to their lunch destination. Mycroft looked at her, not all that surprised that she'd read his thoughts. "I know you tried to clear your schedule so I don't mind. The only one who's losing my good graces is your pal Harry." She frowned slightly as she spoke, thinking that an equerry could have easily rearranged a simple lunch. Her mind raced for a second, coming to a horrible conclusion. "He's bringing along someone I won't like."

"His daughter." Mycroft told her. Jacqueline groaned and sunk down into her seat. Mycroft recognized a Sherlockian sulk coming on and quickly tried to get rid of it, not wanting to deal with a pouty Jacqueline. "You may deduce whatever you like about her and say it aloud for all I care. Harry won't mind, he's known you long enough to get moderately used to you though he still hates your comments regarding a certain smoker. After lunch we can go wherever you like so long as it's not too insufferable." He promised.

Jacqueline smirked just a tiny bit. "So no seedy streets or Scotland Yard." She said, chuckling to herself. She turned to her uncle and gave him a small smile. "Be prepared uncle, if she crosses me I'll be firing off insults faster than people fire off stupid questions." Her eyes glinted with mischief that fifteen years ago only Sherlock could achieve. Mycroft found himself wishing he could take back his words.

Mycroft had been careful to recommend a restaurant not too expensive or extravagant when Harry had invited him to lunch. Luckily for him, Harry listened to almost every word of advice Mycroft gave. The restaurant was almost good enough for government officials but not quite, meaning it was suitable for the upper middle class and some of the lower upper class. Jacqueline didn't like it. She preferred the places her dad always took her like Angelo's or that lovely Chinese place on Baker Street. Still, she tried not to show her complete and utter dislike of the place as Mycroft led her inside.

They were escorted to a nice secluded little table near the exit but not close enough for anyone to spot them the second they entered. Jacqueline rolled her eyes; everybody was so cautious and secretive in the British government. Harry got up when he saw them coming and smiled at them. His daughter remained seated until her dad hit her shoulder lightly, forcing her to get to her feet. Jacqueline did a quick once over of her to gather information for insults. The knees of her skinny jeans were well worn but the rest of her jeans looked new and there was the clear sign of dirt having been just barely brushed off. Her lipstick was messed up right where her lips met and her pupils were fairly large though shrinking. Her purse was open on the table. Her phone was sticking out and, carefully hidden behind it, was a credit card that was very clearly not hers since the name on it was her father's. A new dainty gold bracelet circled her wrist. There were burn marks on her fingers.

Jacqueline grinned, if the girl insulted her lunch was definitely going to be fun.

"Miss Holmes, always good to see you." Harry said politely after saying hello to Mycroft. Jacqueline observed that he'd lost three pounds since she last saw him which had only been two weeks ago. She looked at his hair then his suit, noting the poorly attended to stain on his right sleeve and the only slightly fixed askew hair on the side of his head. Harry was a relatively calm man and extremely tidy due to his position in the government. Unattended problems in his appearance meant stress. Nothing big, the tabloids would have been mentioning anything scandalous, but something bothersome. She noted the absence of a lighter in his pocket.

"Tell me, Harry, how's your employer getting along with trying to stop smoking?" Jacqueline asked. Mycroft shut his eyes briefly, making a note to remind her about how to reply to a greeting. He had gotten it into her head to be at least moderately polite during the unfortunate years she lived with him but Sherlock had made her forget them fairly easily. Harry's smile tightened considerably in irritation and Jacqueline smirked. "Not well I imagine seeing as you've missed a few meals, which more than likely lunches, probably due to her begging for a light and distracting you though you clearly don't have one anymore. She threw a fit today, you didn't have time to clean up the coffee stain on your sleeve properly which means you had something that drew your attention completely away for a while. Raging royalty is rather distracting. You were in a hurry to get here; you barely fixed your hair after stressfully running your hand through it. This has probably been your first break all day; quitting smokers are very hard people to deal with." Jacqueline gave him a fake smile which of course did not set him at ease. "I'm starving. What about you?" She asked, a slightly joking tone in her voice. Of course he was hungry, a stressed out royal had been keeping him from eating. Jacqueline chuckled as she took her seat.

Mycroft whispered a quick seemingly sincere apology to Harry who waved it off, saying something along the lines of finding her guessings amusing. Mycroft was glad Jacqueline didn't hear him, she'd be horribly offended and an offended Holmes was one of the scariest things you could encounter. He had them all seated as quickly as possible and enjoyed the brief silence as they all picked out something to eat. Jacqueline gave her uncle a sideways look when she saw him eyeing the desert page, giving him a brief reminder about his diet. Mycroft frowned at her for a moment then turned back to the salads. The very unappetizing salads. Jacqueline found something simple and set her menu down, deciding to people watch until their waiter or waitress arrived. More than likely waitress, the fingerprint sizes at the top of her menu were too small to be male, with OCD, the way the menus had been set in front of their chairs had been extremely precise.

There was no conversation until the waitress, Jacqueline smirked in triumph when she approached, came and wrote down their meal and drink choices. Both Jacqueline and Mycroft were relieved by that fact and both felt something akin to distaste and horror when Harry spoke. "Miss Holmes, I don't think you've met my daughter Lisa." He gestured to his daughter as he spoke. She was eyeing her phone, obviously wanting to get on it. She barely looked over at Jacqueline when her father spoke.

"If I have I've deleted her." Jacqueline said with disinterest. The girl's eyes snapped to her then and glared at her, obviously not liking someone seeing her as unimportant. Jacqueline had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying anything overly rude. She wanted to get through the lunch completely without anyone storming off before she got to finish eating for once.

Mycroft cleared his throat slightly causing Jacqueline to glance over at him. He gave her a pointed look, telling her to be nice. She clenched her teeth together in anger that she just barely managed to keep in check. She hated it when her uncle made her play nice with people who were very clearly not going to play nice with her. Harry didn't seem to notice the exchange, thank God, and he didn't seem that offended by her comment. Jacqueline had deleted him at least four times before she decided his identity and face was important enough to know.

"You probably haven't met her. She doesn't attend the same school as you and I doubt you two have the same social circle." Harry said good naturedly, not meaning to insult anyone.

"Of course we aren't in the same social circle, dad." Lisa said haughtily. She looked at Jacqueline in a disapproving way. In a way that said "I mean, have you looked at her?" Mycroft sighed quietly and looked for their waitress, hoping she'd show up soon to interrupt the words that were about to fly from his niece's mouth.

Jacqueline put on a fake smile that spoke of just barely concealed anger. She kept her eyes focused completely on Lisa, letting her eyes show the depth of her disgust for the girl. "You're completely right. I would never fit into the circle of girls who think it's acceptable to steal their daddy's credit cards and spend it on worthless jewelry." Jacqueline sounded horribly cheerful as she spoke and she knew it bothered the girl. It didn't matter what tone she used, her voice could scare fully grown men. "Harry, if you look behind your daughter's phone in her purse you'll find your credit card. I would confiscate it and that bracelet your daughter has around her wrist that she obviously bought with your money." She smirked as she spoke, feeling incredibly smug. Mycroft shut his eyes again; she was so very much like Sherlock. She managed to get her revenge and now she was silently gloating over how much smarter she was than everyone else. How anyone could doubt she was Sherlock's daughter was beyond him. Mycroft had to take some of the blame of course. He'd told her many times when she was living with him that due to her intelligence she was above basically everyone else.

Harry actually did look into Lisa's purse. When he saw his credit card inside he turned and gave his daughter an incredibly angry look before taking it out. He then held out his hand for the bracelet. Lisa reluctantly handed it over, shooting Jacqueline a venomous look as she did. "We'll discuss this later." Harry practically hissed at his daughter. They both settled back into their seats, one looking incredibly mad and embarrassed and the other looking ready to kill Jacqueline.

Mycroft prayed that Jacqueline was done with angering the girl when she made no other comment until the waitress came but he wasn't too hopeful. By the time the waitress walked away, leaving them their drinks, Lisa decided it was a good idea to start talking again. The second she opened her mouth Mycroft knew his niece was going to say something incredibly offensive.

"So is she your daughter Mister Holmes?" Lisa asked sweetly, smiling up at Mycroft in a very false way.

"My niece, actually. She's spending the day with me." Mycroft explained. He wasn't fooled by her smile or her tone but he was polite nonetheless.

Lisa continued to smile and Jacqueline watched her carefully, already deciding what else to point out about the girl. "It must be very difficult for you, having a niece who nobody likes." She said, obviously false sympathy in her voice.

Jacqueline had to stop herself form smiling. "And how," she took a drink of her tea painfully slowly to annoy the girl, "do you know nobody likes me?" She looked at Lisa innocently, as if they were talking about the weather instead of a blatant insult.

"It's obvious." Lisa stated, grinning at her. Obviously the girl thought she had hurt her. How she came to that conclusion Jacqueline could only guess. More than likely she managed it because her brain was too stupid to recognize Jacqueline's pleasure and held back anger.

Everyone waited for Jacqueline to respond but she took her time before she said anything. She took another drink, straightened her cutlery out, and looked around before turning her eyes on Lisa again. She smiled at her in a way that almost seemed civil. "Do you pray a lot, Lisa?" Jacqueline asked casually.

Lisa's brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh, no." She said, almost sounding like she thought she was above her religion.

Jacqueline continued to smile. "Oh I was just wondering since you clearly spend a lot of time on your knees." Someone at a nearby table heard her and promptly choked on their drink.

It was a miracle when the waitress suddenly appeared, their food ready for them to consume. The rest of the lunch passed without the girls saying another word to each other. Mycroft and Harry made small talk but it was apparent as they all made to leave that both were glad it was over. As the men said their goodbyes Jacqueline managed to say something to Lisa without them catching her. It was about her burnt fingers and how Jacqueline hoped she was just a social stoner. The girl looked ready to attack her. Luckily Mycroft steered Jacqueline out of the restaurant before that could happen.

"You said I could say whatever I liked." Jacqueline pointed out as they neared the car waiting for them.

"Yes and I greatly regret telling you that." Mycroft said with a slightly heavy sigh.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes as she got into the car. She remembered what her uncle had promised and smiled. "Take us to Battersea Park." She told the driver once Mycroft was in the vehicle. The driver looked through the rearview mirror at Mycroft, silently asking if he should listen to her instruction. Jacqueline let out a loud unhappy groan of exasperation. "Just do it." She ordered the man, glaring slightly. With a quick nod from Mycroft the driver did as he was told. Jacqueline pouted at being ignored till they were actually at the park.

"You'll be skipping supper again, I suppose." Mycroft said as they started walking into the park. Jacqueline hummed out a yes, her eyes darting around to look at everything at once. "How are your eating habits?" He asked.

Jacqueline closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from showing her absolute distaste for that sort of question. She knew his questions would come eventually but like always she had hoped he would forget to ask them. Of course he hadn't though. That was basically the whole point of these visits, to ask the stupid little questions she barely cared to answer. "Fine, uncle Mycroft, thank you for asking. I eat when I'm hungry, which is not often, or when dad is making me which happens once every week." Jacqueline finally answered.

"How often do you sleep?" Mycroft questioned.

"Every two days for one or two hours. The only eight hours I get are every two weeks, usually on Sunday. Same as usual." Jacqueline told him. The answer had been given millions of times before and came out of her mouth without hesitation.

Mycroft looked around, noticing people in almost every direction. Couples, families, people out for a walk. All of them incredibly dull. "Made any friends yet?" He asked though he knew she hadn't. He didn't actually think Jacqueline needed friends, at least not ones she could find in her school. None of them were even close to her level of intelligence and certainly none of them were good enough for her.

Jacqueline snorted, loudly. "After that lunch do you really think I'm making friends?" She asked him, her eyes twinkling with amusement and slight disbelief that he'd ask something that stupid.

"Has Sherlock-?"

"Slipped off the wagon?" Jacqueline asked, cutting him off. "No, he's doing fine. His last danger day was months ago and he's not bored enough to have another one any time soon." She shrugged when she was done speaking like it was no big deal. Her tone was casual, as if she was talking about something as common as schoolwork, and Mycroft hated it. Her dad should never have been on the damn drugs, even Mycroft would admit his brother had been too smart for them. He knew that Sherlock regretted his major lapse in judgment though so he kept his anger in check.

"When was your last danger day?" Mycroft asked, keeping his tone carefully measured so she wouldn't get mad.

Jacqueline looked around, noticing not for the first time that the driver had dropped them off near Fountain Lake. She smiled slightly at the sight of it. "You took me here a couple of times. Once when I was two, during Easter I think, and the other time was when I lived with you. It was summer then. I nearly fell in cause I got too close to the water." She reminded her uncle, not sure if he even remembered it or not.

Mycroft looked towards the water and the streams of it shooting through the air for the amusement of onlookers. He remembered it but just barely. He'd taken her there both times to help her improve her deducting skills but the second time she'd been much more interested in gathering water samples for one experiment or other. "Jacqueline." Mycroft pressed her to answer him.

Jacqueline's smile turned into a frown very quickly. She had never done drugs like her dad but there were days she got the itch to try them. The very horrible, very persistent, itch. For a couple of years she'd been suppressing the itch by smoking but after some arguing with both her uncle and her dad she'd quit, switching to putting on a patch or two once in a while to numb the itch. "Last danger day was several months ago when dad was in the hospital. Nothing happened; I even managed to go without the patch. You should be proud." Her tone was almost sarcastic. She wasn't lying though. She'd managed it but only just barely. The itch had been horribly strong that day. She'd yelled at her dad when he had recovered for nearly sending her off the deep end.

Mycroft nodded, proud of his niece for not being idiotic like her dad and taking the same drugs that had ruined a chunk of her childhood. "Why were you kicked out of your old flat?" He asked.

"There was a disagreement between us and our landlord. I deleted the argument but I suppose it had something to do with one of our experiments." Jacqueline said uncaringly.

Mycroft smirked. "Of course it did." He said, a humorous note to his words. "And how do you like the new flat? Does your new landlady disapprove of your experiments?"

Jacqueline shook her head, smiling a little. "Oh no, Missus Hudson doesn't mind at all. She knew dad rather well before we moved in so she knows what to expect from us." She explained rather happily.

Mycroft soon ran out of questions to ask about her current state and eventually had to start asking questions about her experiments to entertain her. Jacqueline knew he didn't really care about her experiments but she went ahead and told him, finding his reactions amusing. She especially loved his reaction to her most recent experiment. He scolded her, saying she was lucky no one had phoned the police and opened up a case. Jacqueline thought it was absolutely hilarious.

Jacqueline checked her watch once she was out of experiments to tell and noticed she had roughly thirty four minutes till her dad would more than likely pick her up. She was surprised by how fast the day had gone by and by how long they'd been at the park. Mycroft suggested they go somewhere else but she quickly shot down that idea, saying there wasn't enough time to do that. So instead they made their way back towards Fountain Lake as slowly as either was comfortable with. Jacqueline entertained herself by pointing out people to her uncle and telling him all that she could read about them.

Finally Jacqueline's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, typed in her password, and looked at the message she'd received. _"Where has your insufferable uncle dragged you to?"_ Jacqueline chuckled softly and sent back _"I dragged him to Battersea Park. We'll be at Fountain Lake when you get here."_ Two minutes he sent back _"Tell your uncle to skip the conversation when I get there. We'll only just be able to make it to the flat on time if he does." _Jacqueline glanced at her uncle before replying. _"He loves to talk, my uncle Mycroft."_ Mycroft peeked over her shoulder and saw the message before she sent it. He let out a small chuckle in response. _"Duct tape can fix that."_ Jacqueline burst into giggles that took her several minutes to calm down.

Not twelve minutes later Sherlock arrived. Jacqueline spotted him walking towards them and stood up from where her and her uncle had sat down to wait. Mycroft stood too, watching his brother as he approached. "Remember uncle, be polite to Doctor Watson." Jacqueline told him while her dad was still out of earshot. Mycroft nodded though he made no promises. "See you next time." Jacqueline said before hurrying towards her dad.

"Stay out of trouble." Mycroft told her seriously as she walked away.

"No promises!" Jacqueline called back over her shoulder. She smiled when she reached her dad. He didn't smile back until his back was to Mycroft and they were walking towards the road. "What did you do today?" She asked curiously.

"Nothing important." Sherlock stated, looking around. He was trying to figure out why his daughter had dragged Mycroft to this particular park but he was drawing up a blank. He'd never taken her to this park as a child and he couldn't remember if Mycroft ever had. "Solved a burglary that didn't actually take place, staged by the husband who was looking to sell the wife's jewels. Also proved a man's alibi correct, he won't be going to jail anytime soon unless he suddenly becomes a killer which I doubt he will, unfortunately." Jacqueline smirked in amusement at her dad's want of another case and Sherlock smirked too. "Now, are you ready to see our possible flatmate again?" Sherlock asked.

Jacqueline looked at him and grinned. "Oh definitely. We've got to introduce him to Billy." She said enthusiastically. Sherlock chuckled in response.


	5. Chapter 5

John had just knocked on the door of 221B when the Holmeses got out of their cab. He turned when he heard a slightly familiar voice greet him and immediately caught sight of Sherlock and the girl who had been with him at Bart's. The girl eyed him with interest until she noticed him staring at her. She gave him a smile then but didn't walk over until Sherlock had finished paying the cabbie and was approaching John. Since John didn't know the girl yet he decided to greet Sherlock first. "Ah, Mister Holmes." He said, offering his hand.

"Sherlock, please." Sherlock replied, taking the doctor's hand and shaking it. John nodded once as he pulled his hand back, glancing over at the girl as he did. Sherlock noticed and immediately introduced her. "Doctor Watson, this is my daughter Jacqueline." He said politely, gesturing somewhat to his daughter who gave a pleasant smile to Doctor Watson.

John was surprised to say the least. He had thought that maybe she was Sherlock's sister since Sherlock couldn't possibly be out of his early thirties but apparently he was wrong. John guessed the girl's age and did the math quickly in his head. He realized Sherlock must have had her when he was still a teen. "Nice to meet you Miss Holmes." John said a few seconds later, deciding not to judge Sherlock and simply be polite.

"Please to meet you as well Doctor Watson. You may call me Jacqueline if you like." Jacqueline said politely.

John nodded and looked up at 221B. "Well this is a prime spot." He commented. He looked down the street at the people walking around. "Must be expensive." He tried not to sound too put off as he said that. His army pension would just barely cover his half of the rent; he wouldn't have enough money for anything else.

"Oh Missus Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal." Sherlock said, deftly assuring the soldier that he would be able to afford more than just the rent. John nodded, relieved. "Owes me a favor. A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help her out." He said, his eyes drifting to look down the street as he spoke. Jacqueline entertained herself while he spoke by watching John, judging his reactions to her dad's words and smiling when she realized he was at least mildly intrigued.

"Sorry, you stopped her husband from being executed?" John asked curiously.

"Oh no I ensured it." Sherlock said, giving John a small fake smile.

Jacqueline had to keep herself from laughing at the surprise and slight confusion that appeared on John's face. Especially when he glanced over at her. She distracted herself from him by looking towards Missus Hudson who had just opened up the door. "Sherlock." Missus Hudson said, smiling. She opened her arms and Sherlock instantly hugged her. Jacqueline smiled at the affectionate exchange; it was an extraordinary thing when her dad had formed a caring relationship with the sweet older woman. It wasn't much of a surprise though, she was the only person who didn't seem to mind Sherlock's experiments or his personality or his attitude. "Jacqueline, you sweet thing." Missus Hudson said once she was done hugging Sherlock and had caught sight of his daughter. Jacqueline grinned at her and instantly walked over to receive a hug from their landlady.

"Missus Hudson, Doctor John Watson." Sherlock said once his daughter and Missus Hudson had broken apart.

John and Missus Hudson exchanged quick pleasantries before all of them walked inside. Sherlock and Jacqueline hurried up the stairs with ease, both of them able to take two stairs at a time if they wanted but choosing not to for once. John was slower than the rest of them with his cane and Jacqueline took advantage of his slowed pace by running upstairs to her room to get changed. She undressed, leaving a pile of clothes on the ground, and redressed in record time, pulling on an outfit much better suited for her. Jeans that fit perfectly, a blue button up top, and a pair of flats she'd discovered were both comfortable and easy to run in. Jacqueline kept her hair down but slipped a scrunchie into her pocket in case she wanted to pull it back later. Once she looked more like her normal self she grabbed her coat and scarf and hurried back downstairs, catching the tail end of a conversation she wished she hadn't missed.

"There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing another bedroom." Missus Hudson said. Jacqueline tried her hardest not to laugh as she walked into the room.

"Of course we'll be needing it." John said, sounding mildly offended but also a tad confused.

Jacqueline smiled as she hung up her coat and scarf by the door, knowing Missus Hudson was simply too sweet to guess that she had completely misinterpreted John and her dad's relationship. "Oh don't worry, there's all sorts around here. Missus Turner next door's got married ones." Missus Hudson said, obviously thinking she was assuring the doctor.

John looked towards Sherlock, obviously expecting him to correct Missus Hudson, but he didn't seem to notice seeing as he was still trying to straighten things up a little. Jacqueline thought it was funny so she didn't say anything, simply started helping her dad organize things a bit though she didn't know why he was. She figured though that John had said something or other, more than likely by accident, on how messy the flat was. Missus Hudson headed into the kitchen without another word to John. The only thing she said was "Oh you two! Look at the mess you've made already!" Jacqueline and Sherlock exchanged briefs small smiles at her words. They'd been doing an experiment just the day before involving chemistry and had yet to clean up.

A few seconds later John sat down in one of their chairs, groaning slightly as he did. Jacqueline glanced at him briefly before sorting away a few of their books onto the already fairly crowded bookshelf. "I looked you up on the internet last night." John said, his words obviously directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to give John his attention and Jacqueline listened in as she continued to pick things up. "Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked. There was the distinct sound of Missus Hudson cleaning up in the kitchen. Jacqueline worried that she'd get hurt trying to clean up the chemicals they had in there but remembered quickly that Missus Hudson knew better than to mess with one of their experiments without proper instruction.

"I found your website. The Science of Deduction." John said.

Jacqueline smiled, remembering her dad telling her what he had decided to call his website. "What did you think?" Sherlock asked.

Jacqueline turned in time to see John give her dad a look that quite obviously said "you've got to be kidding me." She glanced over at her dad and saw him frown with disappointment and possible hurt. She knew he was proud of his website and didn't like something he was proud of being insulted. Jacqueline almost smirked, she knew that from experience. A teacher had once called Jacqueline a brat in front of Sherlock and he'd been absolutely furious. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." John said, clearly disbelieving her dad.

"Yes and I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." Sherlock replied immediately.

"How?" John asked. Jacqueline thought she heard a note of curiosity in his voice.

Sherlock didn't reply, just smiled ever so slightly. He turned towards his laptop, which he had opened and turned on at one point or another, as Missus Hudson walked into the room, a newspaper in her hands. "What about these serial suicides then Sherlock? I thought that would be right up your street." As Missus Hudson spoke there was a sound outside that made the Holmeses look towards the window. They both started walking towards the same one. "Three exactly the same." Missus Hudson commented.

"Four." Sherlock said when he got a clear view of the street outside. Jacqueline was closer to the window than him so she didn't just see the police car, she saw Detective Inspector Lestrade get out and come towards the door. "There's been a forth. And there's something different this time." As Missus Hudson expressed her surprise Sherlock and Jacqueline turned to face the stairs. Lestrade came hurrying up them, taking two steps at a time in his urgency. "Where?" Sherlock asked, needing no explanation for why a breathless Lestrade was in the flat.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade answered immediately, walking deeper into the flat as he did. Jacqueline pulled up the mental map of London she had tucked carefully into her head and located Brixton. It wasn't horribly far, a quick cab ride away really.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get us if there wasn't something different." Sherlock asked, pressing for as much information as possible before they got to the crime scene.

"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock and Jacqueline replied at the same time with simple yeahs. "This one did." Jacqueline bit her lip, excitement coursing through her. She'd been monitoring the suicides with her dad and now they were finally being called in! Jacqueline felt like a kid on Christmas. "Will you come?" Lestrade asked. Jacqueline nearly rolled her eyes at him, of course they would come.

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked. A very important question seeing as most of Scotland Yard hated them.

"Anderson." Lestrade answered.

Jacqueline immediately let out a groan of distaste. She couldn't stand that insufferable man. He thought he was better than her dad, which he most certainly wasn't, and he constantly insulted both her dad and her. Sherlock had come close to punching the man more than once because of that. "Anderson won't work with me." Sherlock pointed out.

"Well he won't be your assistant." Lestrade said, already sounding tired of the conversation.

"I _need_ an assistant." Sherlock said firmly.

"You've got Jacqueline!" Lestrade pointed out, gesturing to the girl genius beside her dad.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes and so did Sherlock. "Lestrade, how many times must we remind your own rule?" She asked in exasperation. Lestrade sighed, a bit annoyed by her. "You have stated that, legally, I am not allowed to touch the bodies so I cannot properly assist my dad. And, as you have pointed out, the only reason I'm allowed to be at crime scenes is because I am a prodigy, a student in training for a job." Jacqueline pointed out.

Lestrade stared at her for a moment, probably trying to think up a rebuttal. When he couldn't think of one he looked back at Sherlock. "Will you come?" The Detective Inspector asked again.

"Not in the police car. We'll be right behind." Sherlock answered.

"Thank you." Lestrade said. He glanced over at Missus Hudson and John before hurrying out of the flat.

Sherlock and Jacqueline waited till Lestrade was outside once more before reacting properly. Sherlock jumped, spinning in midair with his fists raised, and shouted "Brilliant!" Jacqueline let out a much simpler "Yes!" as she jumped into the air, punching the air in front of her excitedly and almost hitting her dad by accident. Jacqueline leapt up onto the sofa, grinning like mad, and jumped over the coffee table as her dad continued exclaiming in his excitement. She laughed in anticipation as she grabbed her coat and scarf. "Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh it's Christmas!" Sherlock said as he spun towards his coat and scarf.

"Oh so much better!" Jacqueline said as she pulled on her coat.

Sherlock sent his daughter a grin before turning to their landlady. "Missus Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food. Today's Jacqueline's eating day." He told the woman as he walked past her into the kitchen, pulling on his coat as he did.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Missus Hudson said, not even a little bit surprised by how excited they were. Jacqueline laughed as she tied her scarf around her neck.

"Something cold will do." Sherlock said, ignoring her. He knew she'd prepare them something despite what she said. "John, have a cup of tea. Make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" He said as he put on his scarf and grabbed a pair of his gloves lying on the table. He exited through the kitchen door just as Jacqueline hurried out the main entrance to their flat.

Jacqueline and Sherlock were halfway down the steps when they heard a loud angry exclamation of "damn my leg" from Doctor Watson. They both froze, their minds whirring. It didn't take long for them to reach the same thoughts. John was, obviously, missing the war. Sherlock was in need of an assistant. John would fill that position perfectly. They exchanged looks, knowing the other's thoughts. They didn't have to say a word to each other before they simultaneously turned and walked back up the stairs. John had just picked up a newspaper when they peeked back into their flat.

"You're a doctor." Sherlock said, starling John who instantly looked over at them. "In fact, you're an army doctor." Sherlock said as he pulled on one of his gloves. Jacqueline, as she watched John, searched her pocket for a pair of gloves. She found them and started to put them on.

"Yes." John replied as he got up. Jacqueline noted the use of his cane and wondered if they would somehow be able to fix the doctor's imaginary leg pain.

"Any good?" Sherlock asked as Jacqueline pulled on her other glove.

"Very good." John said. He didn't sound proud exactly but there was a bit of a defensive tone to his voice that suggested that he _was_ proud of his abilities.

"Seen a lot of injuries then? Violent deaths?" Sherlock asked as he walked into the room. Jacqueline stayed by the door and observed them. John didn't trust them yet, his stance was guarded and his expression was somewhere between blank and cautious. That wasn't surprising though. They hadn't even known the man for a day. John replied with a simple yes. "Bit of trouble too, I bet." Sherlock mused.

"Of course, yes." John responded, nodding slightly. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." There was a distinct lack of the despairing or angry tone of a soldier sick and tired of death. Jacqueline fought back a grin. John was saying what everyone expected him to say. He didn't believe his own words.

Sherlock heard the lack of a tone just as his daughter did and easily came to the same conclusion as she did. "Want to see some more?" He asked.

"Oh God, yes." John replied immediately, sounding absolutely sincere in every way. Without another word, Sherlock turned and started walking out of the flat. John followed immediately, obviously eager to get to their destination. Jacqueline grinned as she hurried down the stairs ahead of her dad, taking them two at a time in her absolute excitement to reach the crime scene. "Sorry Missus Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." John called out to their landlady as they made their way downstairs.

"All three of you?" Missus Hudson asked in surprise.

Jacqueline had already reached the door and Sherlock was almost there but both of them turned when Missus Hudson spoke. "Impossible suicides? Four of them?" Sherlock said, walking back towards Missus Hudson. Jacqueline watched him go with a delighted grin on her face. "There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something _fun_ going on!" Sherlock pressed a kiss to Missus Hudson cheek and Jacqueline's grin grew wider. Missus Hudson tried so very hard not to smile.

"Look at you two, all happy. It's not decent." Missus Hudson said. Her tone held no heat and she actually seemed to be looking at them affectionately. She hit Sherlock lightly on the arm. "Go on." She said, barely loud enough to be heard. Jacqueline grinned even more as her dad turned away from their landlady.

"Who cares about decent?" Sherlock asked as he walked towards the door. Jacqueline opened it and stepped into the London air as her dad and John Watson drew closer. "The game, Missus Hudson, is on!" Sherlock stated enthusiastically.

Sherlock hailed them a taxi the second he was outside. Jacqueline took the front seat beside the driver as she was used to when they had company along with them. John watched her, mildly confused. Most teenagers would be against sitting up front with cabbies. He didn't question it though, not wanting to offend the girl or Sherlock, and got into the cab. Soon they were on their way to the crime scene, their cabbie being a rather good one who knew what roads to take to avoid traffic. Jacqueline entertained herself for a moment by observing him before pulling out her phone and doing a quick search through news sights to refresh her knowledge of the suicides. Eventually she heard her dad and John talking in the back and listened in. Sherlock noticed but didn't say anything as he explained his deductions to John. Jacqueline kept her head inclined in a way that hid her smile when she heard John compliment her dad instead of telling him off. Maybe they actually could keep this flatmate. He was already in their good books after all.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked once they were out of the cab and walking towards the crime scene. Jacqueline had gone ahead and paid for them, using money she had nicked from someone's, specifically someone who had annoyed her, pocket.

John paused for a moment, probably debating whether to answer. He finally did and when he did Jacqueline smiled. "Harry and I don't get on. Never have." John confirmed as they walked. "Clara and Harry split up three months ago. They're getting a divorce." John paused again. "Harry is a drinker." Jacqueline nodded, the doctor definitely did not approve of the drinking. Good, it would not be good for their new flatmate to be a drunk.

"Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock said. Only Jacqueline heard the bit of pride in his voice.

"Harry's short for Harriett."

Sherlock stopped and so did Jacqueline. They were both stunned, they'd missed something! "Harry's your sister." Sherlock stated. Perfectly logical of course for them to have missed it, really. Harry was not a common nickname among Harrietts and it definitely wasn't common for that nickname to be used in place of the actual name to the point of engravement. John said something but the Holmeses ignored it. Sherlock looked down at Jacqueline and gave her a dissatisfied look that she completely understood. She almost smiled at it but knew better than to do so. "_Sister_!" Sherlock hissed as he started walking again. Jacqueline caught up with him and John easily, her long legs matching Sherlock's long strides. "There's always something." Sherlock said, completely ignoring whatever the army doctor was saying.

"Hello Freak." Sergeant Donovan called out as she walked towards them. "Hello Freak Junior." She added when she spotted Jacqueline. The younger Holmes immediately started deducing little bits about her in the hopes of angering the woman later. Donovan's knees would definitely be coming up later. It was just a matter of who would say something first, Sherlock or Jacqueline.

"We're here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock stated. With that greeting he didn't think the woman was worthy of any type of greeting.

"Why?" Donovan asked. Like an annoying twit.

Sherlock glanced at Jacqueline and they shared exasperated looks that were only displayed through their eyes. He then turned back to Donovan. "We were invited." Sherlock explained.

"Why?" Donovan questioned again.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes as her dad sarcastically replied "I think he wants us to take a look."

"Well you know what I think don't you." Sergeant Donovan said a bit snappishly. She had this disgusted look on her face, like Sherlock and Jacqueline were an unknown substance on the bottom of her shoe.

"Always do, Sally." Sherlock replied as he ducked under the police tape. Jacqueline followed after him and they both took a deep breath through their noses once they were on the other side. It was almost instinctual for them to breath in the scent of a fresh crime scene. They both wrinkled their noses when they caught the scent of men's deodorant coming off of Sally. "I even know you didn't make it home last night." Sherlock added, deducing quickly by the smell and Sally's knees that she had stayed the night at a man's place.

Jacqueline fought back a smile at the look that appeared on the woman's face. Sally opened her mouth, possibly to defend herself, but her words changed as she noticed John stepping forward to go under the police tape. "Who's this?" The sergeant asked.

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." Sherlock explained. His head turned to look at the doctor. "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan." He said, introducing the two. "Old friend." Sherlock tacked on sarcastically.

"A colleague. How do _you_ get a colleague? Is he one of Jacqueline's teachers or something?" Donovan asked incredulously. She turned to John. "What, did he follow you home?" She questioned him.

John chose not to answer that. "Would it be better if I just waited-?" He asked.

"Nope." Sherlock replied, cutting off the ending of John's question. He lifted up the crime scene tape as he spoke, giving the doctor an entrance into the crime scene. With a quick glance over at Sally, John followed the Holmeses in.

Sally started walking towards the actual crime scene, speaking into her radio as she did. "The freaks are here. I'm bringing them in." She stated. Jacqueline was used to Sally's insults towards them but she still felt at least a mild amount of annoyance. She wanted to childishly stick her tongue out at the woman but she didn't, knowing it would diminish the professional façade she had on.

The Holmeses and John followed after Donovan, the latter focusing on what was in front of them while the former two focused on a million different things at once. They turned from where they were looking in opposite directions and noticed a certain idiot walking towards them. Jacqueline let out an annoyed sigh while Sherlock said, just as annoyed, "Ah Anderson, here we are again."

Anderson gave Sherlock a look of distaste, an expression that did not fall for even a second when he glanced over at Jacqueline. The younger Holmes wasn't bothered by the distaste of the adults though. Ever since she'd started acting like Sherlock back when she was a child they'd treated her like this. They blamed Sherlock for how she turned out but that didn't mean they were going to treat her any better because of that.

"It's a crime scene and I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson asked in his extremely annoying voice. Jacqueline entertained herself with a brief musing over which animal Anderson was more like: a rat or a weasel? She sniffed, a thought having occurred to her, and smelt the same deodorant Donovan was wearing coming from Anderson.

"Quite clear." Sherlock replied. Jacqueline didn't like how closely Anderson was standing to her dad. It was far enough to not appear threatening but it was close enough to be a little less than civil. The way the man held himself too also annoyed her. Like he was challenging Sherlock or trying to appear more intimidating. Jacqueline knew it was mostly a testosterone thing, a want to be the alpha male among the crime scene, but it still annoyed her. Most things involving testosterone did. "And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked after a beat.

"Oh don't pretend you worked that out! Somebody told you that." Anderson told him angrily.

"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock explained.

Confusion appeared on Anderson's face. "My deodorant?" He asked, confused and incredulous.

"It's for men." Sherlock said in a mostly mocking way.

"Well of course it's for men!" Anderson said, his face scrunching up. Jacqueline decided he was definitely more of a rat than a weasel. "_I'm_ wearing it!"

"So's Sergeant Donovan." Sherlock stated. Anderson turned around to look at Sally and Sherlock sniffed the air pointedly. "Oh and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?" He asked, looking towards Donovan.

Anderson turned back to Sherlock quickly. "Now look. Whatever you're trying to imply-."

"I'm not implying anything! I'm sure Sally came over for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over!" Sherlock said as he strolled towards the open door leading towards the crime scene. Jacqueline followed after him immediately but stopped when he turned around to face Donovan and Anderson. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." Sherlock smiled mockingly at Anderson before going inside. Jacqueline couldn't resist giving them a falsely sweet smile before doing the same, John following just a few seconds after her. "You need to wear one of these." Sherlock told John once they had reached the room currently being dedicated to equipment. Lestrade was already there, pulling on a coverall.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked, eyeing John for a moment before turning to look at Sherlock.

"He's with me." Sherlock replied as he pulled off his gloves. Jacqueline removed hers as well and shoved them into her pocket.

"But who is he?" Lestrade asked again, obviously wanting a more detailed answer.

Of course Lestrade wasn't going to get a better answer. "I said he's with me." Sherlock stated firmly. That sentence ended the conversation completely, lucky thing for everyone really. Sherlock and Lestrade rarely argued but when they did it was usually not very good. For anyone. Sherlock pushed aside a box of latex gloves and grabbed two pairs from a box of vinyl ones. He handed one of the pairs to Jacqueline who was, rather ironically, allergic to latex.

"Aren't you two going to put one on?" John asked the Holmeses, referring to the coveralls. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked at him but gave him no answer, their way of saying "no, shut up, you're an idiot." John shook his head and looked down at the coverall in his hands.

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked as he pulled on his gloves.

"Upstairs." Lestrade answered as he grabbed a pair of vinyl gloves. He knew about Jacqueline's allergies and was kind enough not to do anything that would risk her having an allergic reaction. He gave the younger Holmes a small smile in greeting as he pulled his gloves on. Jacqueline simply nodded in reply before starting to impatiently drum her fingers on the side of her leg. She continued to drum her fingers till John was in coveralls and they were walking up the stairs. "I can give you two minutes." Lestrade told them as they walked up.

Sherlock's eyes were locked onto the stairs above them. "May need longer." He said casually, barely paying attention to his own words. Jacqueline, who was right behind him, barely heard him as she tried to picture the death they were about to see.

Lestrade didn't argue with Sherlock. Smart, he wouldn't have won anyways. "Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards." Lestrade said, giving them the information he thought they needed. In this case the deceased's name didn't matter. The victims of the serial suicides so far had been unimportant citizens of London with absolutely no connections which meant whoever's body was lying upstairs had been picked randomly. "We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." Lestrade sounded extremely disapproving of that last fact.

It didn't take them long to reach the body. The second Jacqueline was in the room she did a once over of what she could see from by the door. The room was unimportant but the body was everything. Jacqueline disliked the alarming shade of pink the woman was wearing but it helped her decide the woman's profession. Something in the media since only the media found an outfit that atrocious appropriate. Jacqueline could see the woman's legs clearly from where she stood and noticed immediately the splash marks that meant she was dragging along a small suitcase intended for one night's stay. Jacqueline couldn't quite make out what was carved into the floor but it appeared that the victim was left handed.

"Shut up." Sherlock suddenly said, looking towards Lestrade.

Lestrade looked surprised and then confused. "I didn't say anything." He said.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock stated before turning his attention back onto the body. Jacqueline looked pleadingly towards her dad, wanting nothing more than to go ahead and rush over to the body and start working. Sherlock gave her a small nod and she did just that, walking around to the front of the body as he dad slowly approached the body's side.

The woman was definitely left handed and never worked with her hands seeing as her nails were perfectly manicured. The word "Rache" was carved into the floor, mostly her left pointer finger's fault. Jacqueline quickly went through the German she knew. Rache meant revenge. But no, that didn't fit. Jacqueline started quickly tacking on letters at the end of the word and came up with Rachel. It was common for people to think of loved ones during their final moments, wasn't it? Rachel was a good deduction for this situation.

Sherlock knelt down beside the body and Jacqueline copied him. He ran his hand over the back of the woman's coat and pulled his hand away. Jacqueline observed that it was wet. Her fingers itched to rush ahead of him, to do the next step before he could, but she wasn't allowed to touch the bodies at crime scenes unless she was given permission by Lestrade. He rarely gave it though seeing as he was already risking contamination allowing Sherlock to mess with things.

Jacqueline watched as her dad pulled an umbrella out of the woman's pocket. It was dry. A swipe of his hand beneath the collar of her coat revealed that her collar was wet. She'd been in heavy rain a few hours before her death with wind too strong for an umbrella. She was from a decent distance away….where had there been heavy rain fall and strong wind in the past few hours? Jacqueline wanted to look it up on her phone but knew her dad would the second he'd discovered everything he could. She didn't want to miss a thing so she returned to watching him. He had pulled out his magnifier and was examining the bracelet on her left hand. It was clean. So were her earrings and her necklace. Her wedding ring though was dirty, an unhappy marriage then. An unhappy marriage for at least ten years going by the age of the ring.

Sherlock slipped the wedding ring off of the woman's finger and held it up so he could see the inside. He held it out for Jacqueline to take. The girl glanced at Lestrade who nodded before taking the ring. The inside was clean. Very clean. Removed frequently then because that was the only way the ring would get any type of polishing. Jacqueline handed the ring back to her dad. The woman was a serial adulterer. The Homeses both smiled as their deductions came to an end.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked.

"Not much." Sherlock commented as he stood up, removing his gloves. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. While he did Jacqueline stared down at the dead woman as she thought of the many different people Rachel could be.

"She's German." Anderson said. Jacqueline's eyes snapped up to glare at him. He was leaning against the doorway in a way that seemed horribly arrogant. Jacqueline entertained the idea of punching Anderson in the face but knew it would result in Lestrade keeping her off crime scenes for a month. "Rache. It's the German word for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something." As Anderson spoke Sherlock walked across the room towards him, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Yes thank you for your input." Sherlock said as he shut the door in Anderson's face. Jacqueline smiled slightly; glad the man was no longer there to bother them.

Sherlock walked back towards the body, typing away at his phone. "So she's German." Lestrade said.

"Of course she's not." Sherlock affirmed as he pulled up weather maps. "She is from out of town though. Intended to stay for one night before returning home to Cardiff." He said before tucking his phone away. Jacqueline smiled again, she'd been right when she thought that the woman had come from just a few hours away. "So far so obvious."

"Sorry, obvious?" John asked, incredulous.

"But what about the message?" Lestrade asked, pointing towards the word scratched into the floor.

Sherlock ignored Detective Inspector Lestrade, as usual. "Doctor Watson what do you think?" He asked, staring intently at the doctor. Jacqueline glanced over at him and saw his fairly confused expression. He voiced some form of confusion, something about the message, but Sherlock quickly explained. "Of the body. You're a medical man."

"Hold on, no. We have a whole team right outside." Lestrade protested.

"They won't work with me." Sherlock responded immediately.

"I'm breaking every rule letting _you _in here." Lestrade pointed out. "And I'm doing it twice by letting Jacqueline in here with you."

"_Yes_," Sherlock said tersely, "because you need us."

Lestrade paused for a moment. He glanced over at Jacqueline then back at Sherlock, possibly debating whether to confirm or deny that statement. "Yes, I do." The detective inspector finally admitted. He usually did when he knew Sherlock or Jacqueline was right. He was one of those few people who wouldn't tell them off for being correct unless he thought they were being particularly rude. Lestrade looked down at the body. "God help me." He said to no one in particular.

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock said, gathering John's attention back to him. John realized what the man was silently asking and looked towards the detective inspector for permission.

"Oh do as he says. Help yourself." Lestrade sounded far from happy as he spoke.

Lestrade left the room and the remaining three in the room gathered around the body again. Jacqueline stood near the dead woman's head while her dad and John knelt on either side of her. Sherlock and John exchanged a quick unimportant conversation before John finally did as Sherlock wished and examined the body for signs of death. Lestrade came in just as John began his work and watched as John carefully examined the body. Jacqueline glanced at him briefly before paying attention to John's observations. They were simple, things the Holmeses had already figured out thanks to the news on the deaths. Neither one berated the doctor though, glad to have someone working with them that wasn't completely insufferable. Yet. Jacqueline hoped that Doctor Watson never proved to be as annoying as the regular populace. It would make having him as a flatmate very difficult.

"Sherlock, two minutes I said. I need anything you got." Lestrade said, interrupting the small conversation Sherlock and John were having.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes. I'm guessing something in the media going by the frankly alarming shade of pink." Sherlock stood as he spoke and wandered over to Lestrade. Jacqueline followed after him at a leisurely pace, careful not to step on the word the woman had left unfinished as she died. "Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." He said, pacing a bit as he did. He was looking about the room as he did; taking it all in for any more clues the police could have missed. Jacqueline was sure they had missed nothing. The place and victim was random and the killer was at least moderately smart, he wouldn't have left anything.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade questioned.

"Suitcase, yes." Sherlock confirmed. "She's been married at least ten years but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."

Lestrade looked at him, mildly annoyed and a bit stunned. "Oh for God's sake!" He exclaimed. "If you're just making this up-."

Sherlock pointed down at the woman's left hand, at the ring, as he walked backwards towards her. "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least." He knelt down beside the woman, almost stepping on the message she'd scratched out. "The rest of her jewelry has been regularly clean but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there." Lestrade lifted his eyebrow up at that and his annoyed expression sobered considerably. "The inside's shinier than the outside that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands so what or rather who _does_ she remove her ring for? Clearly not _one_ lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time so more likely a string of them. Simple." Sherlock finished his explanation with that one condescending word. Jacqueline felt a bit of pride for her dad well up inside her. He was so bloody brilliant.

John Watson thought so too. "That's brilliant." He stated. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked over at him, masking their surprise well. John glanced over at Lestrade and gave him a simple apology.

"Cardiff?"Lestrade asked, pulling Sherlock's attention back to the matter at hand.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked. Jacqueline thought so but the others in the room did not. John even went so far as to voice that. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked at the two men, a bit amazed by how simple they were and a bit disappointed that once again they were the only ones who could figure anything out. "Dear God. What's it like in your funny little heads? It must be so boring." Sherlock said, looking almost in concern at Lestrade. As if the man could tell him if the two men were suffering from extreme boredom due to their simple minds. "Her coat." Sherlock stated before turning back to the body. "It's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She's turned it up against the wind." As he spoke Sherlock did small gestures with his hands. He usually moved his hands while he talked but it never failed to amuse Jacqueline. She did it too though so she tried not to show her amusement. "She's got an umbrella in her left hand pocket but it's dry and unused. So not just wind, _strong_ wind. Too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" Sherlock pulled out his phone and clicked a button. He held it up for Lestrade to see, showing off the website he'd been on that had showed the weather map of South Britain. "Cardiff." Sherlock answered himself, showing John the phone.

"That's fantastic!" John exclaimed, a look of awed astonishment on his face.

Sherlock turned to look at John and so did Jacqueline. "Do you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked in a hushed tone.

John looked a bit abashed. "Sorry I'll shut up." He said apologetically, not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"No it's fine." Sherlock said, not minding in the least. He rarely got praise anymore from anyone besides Jacqueline. It was surprising and, if Sherlock was being completely truthful, a nice change. Jacqueline was, once again, very glad they'd found John. He was turning out to be a rather bearable human being who would probably make a decent flatmate.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked, cutting off the conversation. As he spoke Jacqueline did something very rare. She gave a small almost polite smile to John, her way of thanking him for being kind to her dad. He seemed surprised by it, especially when it disappeared the second she looked away from him.

"Yes, where is it?" Sherlock asked, spinning about the room in search of it. Jacqueline's brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced about the room herself, it wasn't there. But there had _definitely_ been a suitcase. Jacqueline was very rarely wrong when it came to her deductions. "She must've had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is." Sherlock said, practically to himself.

"She was writing Rachel?" Lestrade asked.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes, something John caught sight of. He had yet to see an example of her own brand of outstanding brilliance but she was sure he would soon. She couldn't let him go about thinking it was only her dad who had the brains. "No, she was leaving an angry note in German." Sherlock replied sarcastically. "Of course she was writing Rachel! No other word it can be. Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" He said.

"So how do you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock looked towards Jacqueline and noticed her fingers drumming against her thigh. She wanted to show off, make her own intelligence known. Sherlock knew that and wanted to let her explain to Lestrade how they knew about the suitcase but he knew he couldn't. Anything she said, due to her not so legal position at crime scenes, would not be able to hold up in court. Not always anyways. This one time though might not prove to cause any harm. If they caught the killer they'd have enough evidence that if Jacqueline's explanation of there being a suitcase was dropped from evidence it wouldn't matter. Sherlock gestured for her to go ahead and explain.

Jacqueline's eyes lit up with delight. "Back of the right leg." She began, pointing to the area she was talking about. "Tiny splash marks on the heel and calf. Neither of which is present on the left which means she was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. You can't get that splash pattern any other way." She gestured to the spots as she spoke just like her dad would. She did it subconsciously though, not even taking in her own actions as she explained. "Smallish case going by the spread. Case that size and woman this clothes conscious, it could only be an overnight bag. So we know she was staying one night." Jacqueline looked towards her dad when she was done, looking for approval. She almost missed the impressed look on John's face.

"Excellent deduction as always, Jacqueline. Didn't miss a thing." Sherlock said, his tone and expression giving away nothing. His eyes though and his general stance gave away that he was proud of his daughter. Jacqueline turned away so no one would see her beaming happily. "Now where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked the detective inspector.

"There wasn't a case." Lestrade told them.

The Holmeses looked at him simultaneously, their eyes sharp. They both frowned at him. That was not right. There was clear evidence of a case so there _had_ to be one. Unless…Unless the killer took it. "Say that again." Sherlock ordered.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Lestrade repeated.

Sherlock and Jacqueline were rushing out the door in seconds. Sherlock started shouting, asking if anyone had found a case just to make sure. Thoughts were racing through their heads as they started to make their way down the stairs. Someone had taken her suitcase! A woman like that wouldn't pack any valuable in an overnight bag so it wasn't a simple opportunity steal. _Someone _had been there! _Someone_ had taken the case! That changed everything! That meant that the suicides weren't suicides! They were _murders_! _Fantastic_! Oh and the case couldn't have been taken on purpose, no! The killer wouldn't want to risk being accidentally tied to the suicides. So he'd driven the woman here and forgotten about it. _Brilliant_!

"Sherlock there's no case!" Lestrade shouted as he came walking towards them, his arms crossed over his chest.

"They take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves." Sherlock started bounding down the steps and Jacqueline followed after him, just as fast. "There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock said as they walked.

"Right, yeah, thanks." Lestrade responded sarcastically. "_And_?!" He practically shouted after them.

Sherlock and Jacqueline stopped on the landing, earning a few glances from the team around them. "It's murder. I don't know how but they're not suicides, they're _killings_. _Serial _killings." Sherlock told the detective inspector. Sherlock clapped his hands together excitedly and Jacqueline smiled in delight. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I _love _those! There's always something to look forward to!" Sherlock took off again as he spoke. Once more Jacqueline followed after him, her hands clasped together in anticipation.

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade questioned.

"Her case!" The Holmeses answered simultaneously. Jacqueline's cheek turned a bit rosy when Sherlock gave her a small look but other than that she looked unashamed. "Come on, where is her case?!" Sherlock continued, barely a second later. "Did she eat it?! Someone else was here and they took her case!" Sherlock stopped suddenly as something occurred to him. "The killer must have driven her here and forgot the case was in the car." Jacqueline was mildly surprised, she'd come up with that conclusion so much quicker than her dad did. She shook off her surprise quickly though. Her dad had been more distracted by the dullness of the other men than she had; it was understandable that his mind had been a bit slowed by it.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there!" John suggested.

"No, she never got to the hotel! Look at her hair!" Sherlock said, gesturing to the room above. "She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes! She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking like-." Sherlock suddenly stopped as he realized something. Jacqueline quickly ran through what he had said and realized something as well. The woman was very conscious about her appearance. She would have matched her suitcase to her outfit which meant the case would be pink. The killer was, statistically, more than likely a man. It would look odd for him to have a pink suitcase with him. He'd have to dispose of it. He'd realize his mistake quickly too, no more than five minutes, and he'd dump it as quickly as possible. Which meant crucial evidence was within five minutes of them and needed to be found. Quickly.

"What is it? What?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock clapped his hands together, his eyes shining in excitement. Jacqueline bounced on her toes impatiently. She wanted nothing more than to hurry ahead and search for the case but she couldn't without her dad. "Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock said.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade said, sounding disgusted with the idea.

"Oh we're done waiting!" Sherlock shouted at him. "Look at her! Really look! Houston, we have a mistake! Get on to Cardiff! Find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were! Find Rachel!" He shouted as they hurried down the stairs. They were almost to the door when they heard Lestrade shout out "But what mistake?!" Sherlock returned for just a second to shout one word back up at him. "Pink!" They were then racing out onto the London street. "Jacqueline, go east. Call if you find anything. Five minute radius!" Sherlock instructed his daughter before taking off towards west.

Jacqueline grinned as she booked it down the streets of London, doing the math in her head to decide where the five block radius started. She pulled up her map of London in her head and headed for the nearest street with a dumpster where a car could fit and not be spotted. It was beyond dangerous for her to be out and about all by herself but she didn't care. Nothing was more exciting than the possibility of getting killed!


End file.
